


Against a Wall

by orphan_account



Category: AFI
Genre: Angst, Denial Jade, Frat House era, Het and Slash, M/M, Marriage, crash love era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:09:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The four times Jade pushed Davey up against a wall and there is no fifth time because nothing ever changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Against a Wall

**Author's Note:**

> I did not write this in lieu of or in response to recent events. I wrote this, and then recent events happened. It was coincidence. This should teach me to post things the second I finish them instead of letting them sit around fermenting. There's nothing else to say about this, really, except that it didn't happen and I don't own anything.

“Sorry,” Davey said sheepishly as he slammed on the breaks. Jade lurched into the dashboard, seatbelt strangling across his neck because he always wore his seatbelt when Davey drove. 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Dave, what the fuck.” 

This was not the first time they’d nearly rear ended someone. Davey’s following distance was an abomination, and on top of that, he was distracted. His hand kept on working its way into Jade’s lap. Not really to do anything, just to tighten around Jade’s narrow thigh, to feel muscle tense and twitch and want and resist beneath him because everything was still new, unbelievable. To thumb the seam, amazed that later, when they were behind a locked door in a house of strangers, he could press his mouth there and Jade would let him. Jade would hold him there, hold him down with fists in his hair and a broken mouth, and beg.

“I’m sorry,” Davey repeated. 

Jade stared at him, the darkness in his eyes something Davey can’t remember ever having seen before. It was a storm, rumbling and oncoming and thick with lightening. His stomach knotted in response, a strange, hot, live, fear swelling in his throat. For an instant he felt like Jade was about to yell at him, _hit_ him even, but then the gaze dropped, and the air crackled in its absence. 

When they arrived at the parking lot, Jade told him, “Get out.” 

Stunned, Davey obeyed, a crease through his brow and the prickling, worried feeling returning to reside in his solar plexus. “What?” he said, once he slid from the driver’s side and leaned against the side of his truck, limbs tingling and electric. 

Jade slammed him so hard into the car door he felt his spine crunching against metal, coupled with the organic sound of things breaking, decaying. His breath was pushed out of him, into Jade’s mouth which sealed itself against his own. 

Because everything about them was instantaneous, Davey was right there with Jade, kissing with teeth, hard between their bodies. Jade ran his hands over Davey’s ribcage right there under the sky and on the asphalt and between parking spaces, where anyone could see and people probably did. Davey could cry, but there is no air and no water, just Jade. 

“You’re not allowed to kill us. Or yourself. Especially not yourself,” Jade said once he let him go, and Davey saw his hands were shaking. 

 

~*~

When asked what it would have been like to die, Davey said it would have been great. For Jade. Record sales would have spiked. He could feel the heat and the ice radiating from Jade’s body like a tide beside him as he said it, the loathing and the resentment and the metallic, surgery bite of shock-pain. Sometimes it made him feel to know he could still make Jade feel. Other times it didn’t. 

He of course said this because that part of him that will never heal was pulsing with the wounded, baby-raw pulse of something still very alive.

As the interview wrapped up Jade was largely silent, but that was nothing to hang meaning on. Jade and silence were older than he was. 

They were in San Francisco, which ran thick with memories like something polluted. Davey tried not to remember some of them as he walked down the hallway, gaunt under the cool blue humming fluorescents. He heard Jade behind him, footsteps in shined dress shoes echoing. 

He tried not to remember, or to feel, as Jade ran an awkward two and a half steps to block the empty in front of him, and pushed his body against the wall. He thought he must be made of iron the way he did not bend or break, until Jade’s elbow slammed into his windpipe and the back of his skull knocked into concrete and static bloomed snowlike behind his eyelids. 

“You think I want you to die?” he spat, and it had been months since Davey saw him this angry. He was afraid, heart rodent fast and trapped, but underneath that there was the far-away memory of longing lodged somewhere between lungs.

“Sometimes,” Davey choked out, but his voice stopped there because Jade dug his elbow into his throat, where his trachea creaked and became fragile, snappable, textured under skin. 

“I could kill you right now, but I don’t want to,” Jade said, and in that moment there was the slightest whisper of air falling into Davey. 

“Sometimes I think it would be easier for you,” Davey’s voice scraped. 

Jade’s body pushed itself along the length of Davey’s like a violin bow against cat gut. “You. Are unbelievably selfish,” his voice hissed. 

He squeezed tears from Davey. Years from Davey. They’ve talked about this before, so Davey spat what was left in his dry mouth out at Jade, but it rolled down his chin, white and thick like things he used to swallow. Jade licked it up, fiercely, choked Davey with his tongue, and then let him go. 

Air rushed into empty space and blood vessels sang with oxygen again, purple and red-black speckles against skin. Davey sucked in air, and Jade hit the wall with his fist so hard he bucked and cradled his knuckles as they darkened. 

~*~

Davey was amazed he could get away with dropping to his knees in front of Jade while so many people watched. It seemed like some enormous fluke; it seemed like cheating. He found it incredible that no one had come up to him yet, nudged him in the ribs with an elbow and given him that knowing look, the look people who think they’re gay give to other people they think are gay. So far, the act has only been met with silence, silence and the screaming and roaring of a crowd that screamed and roared regardless of where he was and who was in front of him and what he was singing. 

Jade told him he shouldn't do it. He said it drew unnecessary attention, like attention was something no one needed. Davey answered by doing it again, and telling Jade as they mopped sweat off the backs of their necks with their already soaking shirts, tight and hot and buzzed on adrenaline, hoarse and shouting, “See? No one fucking cares. Go with it.” Davey still thought his body could exist in public. He wasn’t young, but he was young enough to still think that maybe some things didn’t end. 

All Jade could do at that point was shake his head and grin lopsidedly, because he was still in love with Davey and accidents seemed magical instead of lucky. Luck was a thing that ran out, magic seemed depthless. 

It made Davey hard, to mimic what he did behind locked doors in crowded houses up there onstage. He’d scream and he’d feel the vibration between his legs. He’s scoot along the stage and feel it rumble like a bucking thing beneath him, a bull roaring while the crowd roared and eight seconds passed with the microphone and the guitar the only space between his mouth and Jade’s dick. 

He didn’t think it made Jade hard, too, until they finished the encore and slammed into the backstage area, which was dark and humid. He was blinded still by stage lights, but he saw Jade’s frame charging towards his flesh like a bucking thing beneath him, a roaring bull. He tensed, wondering if their luck had run out. Jade palmed two hands against sticky vinyl, and threw Davey against the couch so hard his lower back sang in hot agony. 

Jade’s body, molten and wet, pushed against him for eight seconds, and he felt their cocks rubbing together and everything tightening. He could hear Hunter and Adam rustling in the room, averting their eyes, and he had the sense to push Jade’s chest off of his own, parting their wishing-for-death hearts. 

Breath came short and fast, and Jade’s eyes blackened with want. _Later_ Davey mouthed through bruised lips, because they were still in love and magic seemed depthless. 

~*~

It was at a hotel, because even Jade wouldn’t get married in church. There were nights where Davey stayed up, hands clasped over his chest while he laid like a corpse in the dark imagining the argument between her and Jade, church vs not church. He imagined Jade winning, and how that victory was undoubtably achieved by twenty-two year old Davey’s influence, something so snakelike and insidious Jade probably didn’t even realize that was where it came from. 

He was there early. When Jade saw him, they were both surprised, like Davey didn’t recognize he was even _there_ until Jade did. Just another time where his existence was only made real by Jade’s acknowledgment. They stood, stared at the other like a ghost. 

Jade did not expect him. The invitation was a formality. _I want you to be there_ was what Jade said because that was what you were supposed to say. _Why?_ Davey had answered, because Jade’s wedding did not seem like something either of them wanted him present for. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t a thing that mattered. _You don’t have to be my best man, but know that you are._

Davey planned to look down during the vows, at grass or carpet or whatever might happen to be beneath him. 

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Jade said, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Davey was shocked to hear that Jade remembered that conversation. He did not know what to say, so he agreed, “I thought I wasn’t.” 

Jade was wearing the suit he wore onstage for Blaqk Audio. 

“Here, I want to show you something,” Jade mumbled. There were people milling about, photographers and coordinators but no friends, no family. He came early, so he was the only one who wasn’t a ghost. Or maybe the only ghost purgatorialy roaming a room of the living. Davey thought about spiking record sales, and about death. 

“Okay,” he said. 

Then he followed Jade to the bathroom off the lobby. It was very clean, there was marble and granite and a potted fern in the corner. Maybe the door was a locking door, but Davey did not know because neither of them locked the door. 

Jade fisted his hands in the lapels of Davey’s suit. It was one he has worn onstage for Blaqk Audio, shiny and not cheap. Stitching came apart and bones wracked together like a storm. Davey kept his mouth shut until the insides of his lips were shredded against his teeth, and Jade’s grip in his hair pulled apart whatever he was trying to hold together as a whole. He sucked Jade’s tongue, and bit whatever he could reach, because it was harder than fighting and Davey chose the harder thing because he had to prove that this wasn’t all for naught. 

Knees pushed between thighs. Davey’s back slid against tile but Jade held him up. He moved to card a hand through Davey’s hair, but Davey caught his wrist, because he spent hours on that. 

“This changes nothing,” Jade gasped with a weird kind of tenderness. There was no anger, only vulnerability, like he was in awe of the impossibility of escape. 

Davey laughed, because it was absurd for Jade to be the one thinking about how things were unchangeable. His eyes fluttered closed, and time slowed down. Davey felt mired, stuck, frozen, obsidian. “You’re so fucked up,” he told Jade’s neck, and he didn’t think anyone heard him. 

Roughly, Jade cupped the heat of Davey’s half-hard dick, and he began to drop to his knees on the bathroom floor. 

Davey caught him for the second time, a knuckles against fabric. Then he was shaking his head, pulling Jade to his feet. _Later_ he mouthed through bruised lips.


End file.
